


Turn Around...by DangerMom (HawkMoth)

by HawkMoth



Series: Daybreak [1]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: AU, F/M, Originally posted 8/1/1997 (When I wrote as "DangerMom"), Songfic, mostly canon-compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-03
Updated: 2013-09-03
Packaged: 2017-12-24 21:13:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/944719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HawkMoth/pseuds/HawkMoth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prelude to the "Daybreak" series of P/T stories. Weaves in and around various third season ST:V episodes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turn Around...by DangerMom (HawkMoth)

**Author's Note:**

> As I said many years ago as a prelude to one of the very last ST:Voyager stories I wrote, Voyager was the show that stole my heart, and broke it. I'd really like to get all the stories archived here, but it may wear me out.
> 
> This version has been very slightly edited from the original.

******

_“If you ever have a free evening, I have a holodeck program you might enjoy...”_

_“I’d rather take my chances with Freddie Bristow.”_

Tom Paris woke up with a headache, and the aggravating realization that he was in Sickbay. Again. It was getting to the point where he might as well ask for a permanent bunk in here. What had happened to him now? He tried thinking past the dull pain in his skull, and came up blank. _Damn..._

He must have made some sound of frustration, for Kes materialized at his side, looking concerned. “What is it, Tom?” she asked softly. “How are you feeling?” She proceeded to pass a tricorder wand over his head, every inch the professional as she studied the readings.

“What...what’s going on, Kes?” he asked, feeling groggy and bad-tempered. “What am I doing here?” He looked around as best he could without moving his head too much. “Where’s Doc?”

For a moment, her professional demeanor faded, and she bit her lip in consternation. Then, recovering, she said, “The Doctor’s...rather busy right now, Tom. But you’re doing fine, don’t worry. A little more rest, and you’ll be out of here. You were injured in the shuttlecraft, remember? You and B’Elanna were attacked by those aliens.”

Memory came rushing back with her words. Scanning for those odd energy signatures...trading barbs with B’Elanna, and then everything happening at once: something latching on to the shuttle, the aliens beaming in, speaking incomprehensibly, raising their weapons.... He remembered being thrown against the console in a blinding wave of pain, seeing the same thing happen to--

He broke out in a cold sweat. “B’Elanna! Is she all right?” He made a feeble attempt to sit up.

Kes put her hand on his shoulder and gently pushed him back down. “She’s all right...she wasn’t as severely injured as you were. You needed additional treatment...an operation...” Again she looked uneasy about something.

He stared at her. “What...?”

“But you’re fine,” she hastily assured him. “And you need to be still, Tom, and rest. Understand?”

“Yeah, okay,” he agreed readily, because moving around and getting upset was only making the headache worse.

Kes checked the tricorder once more, turned to select a hypospray from the nearby tray, and gave him an injection that quickly eased the pain. “Now you behave,” she admonished him with a knowing smile, “and you’ll be back on duty before you know it.”

She left him to rest, and for a while he was able to close his eyes and do so. But his thoughts kept turning to the attack in the shuttlecraft...despite Kes’ reassurance, he wished he could see for himself that B’Elanna was really all right. Even though it seemed they couldn't get along to save their lives, he considered her a friend, and had felt a certain responsibility for her ever since they had been held captive by the Vidiians.

Not that she’d _ever_ admit now that she needed anyone to look out for her; but there was still a vulnerability about her that Tom thought he understood. He liked her; liked her toughness and her intelligence, and he wanted to get to know her better. But whenever he tried, he ended up resorting to the same old, slick methods he had always used with women, because it was easier and safer than showing any vulnerability himself.

He remembered the one time she had shown any real concern for him, during the Dreadnought incident, when he was deeply involved in the deception plotted by Captain Janeway and Lieutenant Tuvok. B’Elanna had been honestly worried about him and his unpleasant behavior, and it had hurt, more than he could have possibly imagined, to have to lie to her and act as if nothing mattered to him.

Everything had changed so much since then. They had both established a place for themselves on Voyager, and shipboard life had settled into some semblance of normality. And sometime in the past few months, Tom had discovered that his reasons for wanting to know B’Elanna Torres better were becoming more complicated.

With a sigh, he opened his eyes and stared at Sickbay’s uninteresting ceiling. There were times when he didn’t understand his own feelings. Being her friend was sometimes a real challenge, yet he was unwilling to give up on her. _I’m not in love with her,_ he thought, _but why do I care about her so much?_ It was a question he couldn’t answer. The only thing he was sure of at this moment was his desire to get out of Sickbay, to make sure for himself that she was all right.

Cautiously, Tom made another attempt to sit up, and was more successful this time. He didn’t care what Kes had said, he was ready to get out of here _now._ He pushed aside the blanket, grimacing in distaste at the medical-issue pajamas, and swung his legs over the side of the bed. If he could just find his uniform.... Then he heard voices, coming from the office...the Doctor, and B’Elanna, both of them sounding less than happy. What was going on?

“Tom!” Kes came hurrying out of the lab to his bedside. “What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.

He held out his hand to her placatingly. “Aw, c’mon, Kes, I feel much better, and you said I could go back to duty soon. Can’t you check with Doc? I can hear him, he’s in the office with B’Elanna.” She frowned, and he realized this was part of what had been upsetting her earlier. “Kes, you said B’Elanna was all right. So why is she still here? What’s going on?”

Kes looked at him, her usually bright eyes shadowed with worry. “B’Elanna is fine. It’s...there’s something wrong with the Doctor,” she said falteringly. “It happened when you two were brought to Sickbay....”

A short time later, back in uniform, and ready to report to the Bridge, Tom stood quietly outside the Doctor’s office. His head was spinning after Kes had filled him in, and he almost wished he had the headache back instead. The Doctor’s sudden and inexplicable memory loss; Kes having to finish the surgery; the ship about to encroach on the territory of the mysterious, hostile aliens...God, it was just another typical day on _Voyager_ \--one damn thing after another.

He watched as B’Elanna worked the diagnostic program, searching for the answer to Doc’s problem. She was frowning in concentration, and he could almost sense her frustration from here. The Doctor sat on a stool nearby, looking so lost and confused that Tom felt a surge of pity for him. He wanted to say something, to both of them; some word of encouragement, but maybe it was better if he left them alone. Neither of them had noticed his presence, and he’d only be a distraction. Besides, he was needed elsewhere.

_Good luck, B’Elanna,_ he said silently, then left Sickbay for the Bridge.

 

_There is someone, walking behind you  
Turn around, look at me._

 

B'Elanna felt something--a prickle on the back of her neck, the hint of a nearby presence. She glanced up from the console in time to see Tom Paris walking out of Sickbay. She'd scarcely given him a moment's thought since she she'd started working on the Doctor's problem. After all, Kes had said the helmsman would recover, and there was no reason to doubt her.

Well, he must be fine if he was headed back to duty. Still there was something about the set of his broad shoulders, and the pace of his steps that didn't seem right. B'Elanna nearly called out to him--"How's that hard head of yours, Paris?"--but the words died on her lips. No, he was probably all right. Kes was too good a nurse to let him go if he wasn't.

Anyway, he was already gone. B'Elanna turned back to the computer, back to the bewildered EMH program who was watching her with such pitiable dismay. The Doctor was her top priority now, unless they ran into trouble crossing the aliens' space. She had no time to think or worry about _Voyager's_ hard-headed, smooth-talking pilot.

What a nerve! Making his none-too-subtle digs about harmless little Freddie Bristow, then attempting to ask her out himself, with that ridiculous offer to share a holodeck program. He was good to work with, as a crewmate; she didn't mind calling him a friend. But she had no intention of being next in the long line of Paris conquests!

However, as she got back to work, and punched up the sub-routine algorithms one more time, somewhere inside her a tiny, worried voice was saying, _You better be all right, Tom Paris._

***

_"Oh, no--you can't leave me now, Lieutenant."_

_“Oh, you need me. I’m touched.”_

As Tom entered the mess hall, he couldn’t quite suppress the small shudder that passed through him. Everything seemed perfectly normal: all evidence of the macrovirus invasion cleaned up; Neelix back behind the galley counter, merrily cooking; people sitting, talking, eating...another crisis over. But Tom could remember, all too clearly, how things had been a scant twenty-four hours before. And he had wanted to come here now, to eat?

There had been little else to do with the down time granted by the captain. He didn’t quite feel up to any leisure time in a holoprogram. Harry was in his quarters, still sleeping off the effects of the illness. Tom felt too restless to do the same. So here he was, contemplating from a safe distance whatever it was Neelix was dishing up.

"Hello, Tom!" Neelix called out, ladling something green and oozy onto a plate with a resounding _plop_. "What can I get for you today?"

Tom fought the sudden urge to run, and did his best to keep his eyes on the Talaxian's face. "Umm, nothing, really, Neelix...I'm not very hungry just now."

Neelix nodded his understanding. "Still feeling a bit over the weather, eh?"

"That's _under_ the weather, Neelix," Tom gently corrected him, with a small smile, "and yes--I guess I am."

_Voyager's_ self-appointed _chef de cuisine_ removed the plate of...food from Tom's sight and quickly brought out a mug and thermal pot. "Then try some of this," he offered, pouring a steaming, reddish-brown liquid into the cup. "Something Ensign Parsons came up with...an herbal tea that was a recipe of his grandmother's. He says it's very soothing, and several crewmembers have already told me it helped them feel better. I had Kes check it out with the Doctor and he confirmed the ingredients do give it some therapeutic value. But I myself can't see the appeal--it has very little taste."

That meant it probably had just the right taste for the human palate. Tom picked up the mug and took a cautious sip. The warmth alone felt good going down his throat, and the flavor hinted of berries and lemon. It hit his stomach much more pleasantly than even the mere thought of food had in the past twelve hours. He drank some more, letting his gaze wander around the mess hall. And he soon found something worth looking at.

"That's pretty good, Neelix," he said, turning back to his friend. "Could you give me a refill, and another one as well, please?"

He carried the two hot mugs to where B'Elanna was sitting. The tabletop in front of her was empty, and she was staring raptly out the port. "How are your stomachs, B'Elanna?" he inquired in his best tone of polite neutrality.

She looked up and actually smiled him. A friendly, welcoming smile. "A lot better than they were," she answered, "although I'm still feeling a little...unsettled."

Her smile was unsettling him, as well. "I know what you mean," he replied, then sat down across from her. "Here, try some of this," he said, proffering a mug of tea.

B'Elanna shook her head. "Oh, no...Neelix tried to push that on me. I didn't dare try it."

He nudged the mug closer to her. "But it's good, really. I only drank a little and I feel better already." She gave him a doubtful frown. "It's okay, B'Elanna. Trust me." _Please._

Her eyes narrowed, and he recognized the look that meant she was about to say something cutting and cruel. Tom braced himself to just grab both mugs and beat a retreat before they got into one of their typical insult sessions. But suddenly her expression altered, and the look in her eyes softened. She reached out for the tea. "All right," she acquiesced with a sigh, "but if this makes me feel worse, I'll dump it in your lap," she finished, in lighter tone that he was used to hearing from her.

Still, he watched with trepidation as she drank the tea in slow sips. It was a relief to see a smile return to her face, and her whole manner become more relaxed. She glanced up at him in surprise. "It is good! Thank you."

"Thank Parsons next time you see him," he said, and told her what he had learned from Neelix.

They sat in amicable silence for a few minutes, finishing the tea and enjoying the renewed sense of well-being it brought to them both.

But when B'Elanna put down her empty mug, her good mood seemed to fade a little, and she suddenly seemed nervous about something. "Tom..." she began hesitantly.

He put down his own mug and gave her all his attention. "What?"

She averted her gaze from his, and played with the mug, turning it back and forth in her fingers. "I don't recall much of what happened yesterday, after we all started to get really sick, but I do remember that you...you stayed with me." She ducked her head down even further. "I-I'm glad I wasn't alone. Thank you," she finished in an almost shy tone, finally looking up at him.

He couldn't remember the last time she had spoken so kindly and sincerely to him, and it threw him so far off balance that he found it hard to think. The smooth and off-hand reply he might have used--"Hey, it's not like I had any other place to be"--was beaten back as soon as he could concentrate again. "That's all right," he got out slowly. "I didn't feel like being alone either."

It must have been the right thing to say, because her mouth went up in a crooked little smile that made his heart turn over. "It was pretty scary, wasn't it?"

"Yeah," he agreed, vowing never to tell her the most frightening moment, when he had seen the macroviruses erupt from her body. "But the part I remember best--I think you and everyone else were just about unconscious then, and I was halfway there--was when Captain Janeway showed up, armed to the teeth like some one-woman commando squad, trying to help us, and fighting off one of the huge viruses...oh, she was like some sort of avenging angel, B'Elanna. You should have seen her."

"I wish I could have," she said fervently. "The Doctor said she was amazing. But we know that already, don't we?"

Tom smiled. "We sure do." And then he ran out of things to say, because he was still trying to comprehend that he and B'Elanna were having a real, argument-free conversation. Was he actually making progress in having her realize that more than anything, he just wanted for them to get along?

Their apparent truce didn't seem to be impressing her that much, though. She returned his smile with an impassive one of her own, and abruptly got to her feet. "Well," she said briskly, "I'm going to see if Neelix will give me a cup of that tea to go, and wander down to see how things are in Engineering."

He should have known the moment wouldn't last. "This is supposed to be down time, Torres," he reminded her, more sharply than he meant to.

"It's never that as far as my engines are concerned, Paris," she retorted, and sauntered off to the counter. "See you around," she called back to him dismissively.

"Yeah, sure," he muttered bleakly. So much for progress.

 

_There is someone, watching your footsteps  
Turn around, look at me...._

 

The engines, of course, were just fine. But it was the only excuse the chief engineer could think of to get out of the mess hall fast, before she made a complete fool of herself in front of Tom Paris.

Not that he'd been making another one of his stupid plays for her--she knew he had a compassionate streak under that wild boy image, and she was only too well aware that he liked her a lot. But when had she gotten so comfortable with the idea that she actually enjoyed his attentions?

She really had appreciated the fact that he had stuck with her during the crisis, not that he'd had much choice once they were under quarantine. She felt she had to thank him for it, because you said thank you to friends when they helped you out. And it was really nice of him to ask how she was feeling, and bring her that tea, and help her feel better--

So why did she get so upset when Tom was nice to her? Why did it frighten her that they had been having a nice, calm conversation, not sniping at each other as usual? Why did that smile of his--that warm, unaffected, eyes-lit-up smile--make her feel like she was melting inside, like she wanted to reach out and just touch him--

B'Elanna found herself coming up short in front of the entrance to Main Engineering, with no idea how she'd gotten there. She must have been operating on autopilot all the way from Deck 2, while her thoughts ran away with her. The thermal mug of tea was still in her hand, and it was a wonder she hadn't dropped it somewhere along the way.

She entered the engine room, gave a stiff nod to Ashmore, who was pulling relief duty, and went to her console. She put the mug down out of harm's way, and called up a status report. But she didn't see the text and figures that came up on the screen. All she could see was Tom Paris, slumped over a table in the mess hall--the sight she had awakened to after the Doctor's treatment had started filtering through the ship--his closed eyes creased in pain beneath his sweat-darkened hair; his hand outstretched in her direction, as if she were a lifeline he was struggling to reach.

 

***

_"I've wanted this for so long...just let it happen."_

_"I hope someday you'll say that to me and mean it."_

He had no idea how long he'd been waiting outside Sickbay. He'd nearly worn a hole in the floor pacing; leaning against the corridor wall hadn't helped; and eventually he'd just slid to the floor, arms wrapped around his legs, his head resting on his knees, waiting...just waiting.

B'Elanna's scent still clung to him, despite the fact he had unwillingly followed the Doctor's orders and cleaned up and changed back into uniform after he'd been dismissed from Sickbay. He had not let go of her the entire time they had waited on the planet for the transporters to be repaired, as she drifted in and out of consciousness. "You're all right," he whispered to her, each time her eyes had flickered open and she seemed in distress. "You're safe." And each time she had relaxed, slipping back into a light sleep. He hadn't taken his eyes off her bruised, dusty face, not while Tuvok saw to Vorik, or Chakotay had tried to run medical scans on B'Elanna and himself. At least the first officer had refrained from making any comment beyond vague reassurance that the chief engineer's body chemistry appeared to be returning to normal.

Finally the signal came from _Voyager_ , and Tom held her tightly during the beam-up to Transporter Room 1--Vorik's sabotage had not been entirely compensated for--then carried her all the way to Sickbay because a site-to-site transport was too risky for the same reason. With the greatest reluctance he had relinquished her to Doc's care, waiting to one side with no thought of his own aches and bruises while Kes and Tuvok took care of Vorik. Then he'd allowed Kes to push him onto a biobed and run a tricorder over him; said no word as she gave him an injection and healed the injuries he'd acquired from the various rock-falls. He didn't even see her in front of him, with his gaze fixed on B'Elanna's too-still form.

He tried weakly to push her hand away when Kes brought the regenerator to his face, but she persisted and he had to let her erase the mark B'Elanna had left on him. Oh, God, would that ever happen again? Would she ever be able to admit that she really wanted him as much as he wanted her? Then he groaned inwardly...how could he think such a thing, when he'd come so close to losing her altogether?

_What if she had died? What if she had died? What if she had died--_

The agonizing thought wouldn't stop running through his mind. Numb to anything but that horror, he scarcely heard the Doctor pronounce him fit, but relieved from duty for twelve hours. All that mattered was finally hearing the diagnosis that B'Elanna was free from the worst effects of the chemical imbalance, that she would make a full recovery, that all she needed was rest while her body healed. When the same was said about Vorik, Tom could only think, with a poisonous glance at the ensign's inert body, _If she had died, they'd have to lock me up to keep **you** alive, you Vulcan bastard._

Then before he could go to B'Elanna's side, to make sure for himself that she was all right, Doc had taken him firmly by the arm, and escorted him with irresistible holographic strength to the door, with instructions to go take care of himself. Which he'd done as quickly as possible before returning to take up his vigil, knowing he couldn't be anywhere else.

"Mr. Paris?"

Tom glanced up a weary inch and saw a pair of sturdy legs planted in front of him. _Oh, Chakotay, just leave me alone._ Then he lifted his head and was surprised to see the look of genuine concern on the commander's face.

"What are you doing, Lieutenant?"

"Holding up the bulkhead, sir," Tom replied, too tired to care if he was being insubordinate.

Chakotay frowned. "You're not doing her or yourself any good out here, Tom," he said, so obviously striving for patience that Tom almost smiled. "You heard what the Doctor said. B'Elanna's going to be fine, and you're supposed to be getting some rest too."

Tom leaned his head back against the wall. "I am resting, sir," he said derisively, as if the first officer was too obtuse to notice.

The commander bent over him menacingly. "That's enough of that, mister," he warned through clenched teeth. Then he hauled Tom roughly to his feet and pinned him to the wall with a forearm across the chest. "I'm going to count what happened down there as a medical excuse for your behavior now, Lieutenant, so consider yourself lucky. Understand?"

Too worn out and shocked to do anything else, Tom nodded cautiously.

Chakotay let up the pressure only a little. "And I'm not going to pretend that I understood or liked what nearly happened. But it's obvious you did everything you could to--keep B'Elanna safe. So I'm going to count that in your favor, too," he stated with grudging respect. Finally, he released the pilot, and took a step away. "Got that?"

Tom stayed against the wall, eyeing him warily. "Yes, sir," he answered, with grudging courtesy of his own.

A tight smile appeared on the commander's lips. "You might be interested to know that the captain has decided that it's time for another round of cross-training sessions. We feel that Ensign Vorik could benefit greatly from a long-term assignment in Astrophysics, where his mathematical abilities can be put to good use."

If he'd had the energy, Tom would have laughed out loud. But all he could manage was a grimly satisfied smile. "That'll probably guarantee his long-term survival," he agreed.

Chakotay nodded. "But it's up to you to guarantee your own," he said quietly. "Watch how you tread, Tom."

"Always, Commander," Tom replied, understanding the unspoken apprehension about his feelings for B'Elanna. It wasn't exactly approval, but it wasn't complete opposition, either.

Just then, the door to Sickbay slid open and Kes appeared. "Tom!" she exclaimed. "You shouldn't be here."

He ignored her objection to his presence and flung himself toward the open door, trying to get a glimpse of B'Elanna. But with a strength they sometimes forgot she possessed, Kes barred his passage and pushed him away, letting the door close behind her. Sensing Kes needed help, Chakotay latched on to Tom's arm and held him back.

"I just want to see her," Tom protested desperately, struggling to break free from the commander's grasp. "Please, Kes, let me see her!"

"No, Tom," Kes insisted with gentle firmness, taking him by the shoulders and willing him to be calm with an expression of profound compassion. "I know you're worried, but she's fine, and the Doctor's about to release her to quarters. But she's still upset by what happened, and she doesn't want to see anyone right now," she explained, with a stern look that included Chakotay. "Please, both of you need to leave."

Drained and defeated, Tom slumped back against the wall. "I just want to see her," he whispered to himself. Seeing her was the only way he would believe that she was all right.

"Come on, Tom," Chakotay said kindly, impressed by the outburst of anguished caring he had just witnessed, relieved when Tom let himself be led down the corridor and around the corner, as Kes re-entered Sickbay.

But Tom was not giving up completely. He stopped short as they rounded the bend, and gave Chakotay a pleading look. "Just give me a second," he implored. "I won't let her see me."

With an impatient sigh, the commander let him go. Tom eased back carefully and stood where the light wouldn't hit him, watching anxiously as the door opened again, and Kes emerged, holding her hand out, smiling encouragingly.

Then B'Elanna appeared, and Tom let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. He only got a brief glimpse of her face, which was pale but composed. She was walking a bit unsteadily, and surprisingly accepted Kes' supporting hand on her arm as they moved away down the corridor. They were out of sight in moments, but it was enough for Tom, and some of the crushing weight of worry lifted from him. Then he was content to let Chakotay take hold of him again, and lead him to his own quarters.

 

_There is someone, who really needs you_  
 _Here's my heart, in my hand..._  
 _Turn around (turn around)_  
 _Look at me (look at me...)_  
 _Understand._  
 _Understand..._

The warp coil refit was complete, and B'Elanna felt a sense of immense satisfaction, and great pride in the efforts of her engineering crew.

Sakari IV was well behind them, and she felt a sense of tremendous relief, and gratitude that the unpleasant, true facts about the matter had not gone beyond those few people who had been directly involved in the...incident. The cross-training shuffle hadn't entirely quelled rumors about Vorik's "banishment" from Engineering, but then, his admiration of her hadn't exactly been a secret, either. But there were no sordid details--about Vorik's affliction, or its effect on her--circulating through the gossip mills.

They had encountered their first evidence that they could be approaching Borg space, and she was feeling as apprehensive as the rest of the crew.

Tom seemed to be keeping his distance from her, and she was, by turns, furious, confused, and disappointed.

She couldn't have scared him off--she'd known for a long time that Tom Paris didn't scare easily, but that he wasn't a fool and had a healthy respect for fear. Whatever things he might be afraid of, he'd made it blatantly clear in the turbolift that she wasn't one of them. In Klingon terms, he'd practically bared his throat to her with his words, daring her to plunge a knife into him. It was that quiet, confident audacity of his that had prompted her response to him, a threat that held a hint of promise. If he thought she was still worth pursuing, then the least she could do was make it interesting, while she made up her mind about him.

Except he'd been leaving her alone. He was friendly and polite at staff meetings, pleasant enough company when she encountered him at Sandrine's or the Resort, his usual charming self when they happened to meet anywhere else on board ship. But that was it--it all seemed to be on the surface, the way it had been months and years ago when they were barely friends. No more furtive, longing glances when he thought she wasn't looking; no invitations to the mess hall or holodeck, no special attention at all. She doubted anyone else had noticed the difference, but it was driving her crazy, and she had no idea what to do about it.

And yet...there had been odd moments in the past week, when they were seated side by side at a briefing, or facing each other across the pool table, when B'Elanna could almost sense something...a hesitancy in his manner, a certain catch in his voice, that made her think he was only acting this way, for some important reason, and that he didn't like doing it. The whole business almost reminded her of the time he'd been playing the part of a true malcontent to root out the traitor they'd had in their midst. And if he was only pretending he'd lost interest in her, she couldn't figure out _why._

So, in turn, she treated him the way she'd grown accustomed to--with amused tolerance, and casual disinterest. It was the only way she could cope with the change in his attitude. And it was hard, because she'd finally admitted to herself, in the span of time she'd spent recovering off-duty, that it hadn't entirely been the influence of the _pon farr_ that had wrung those words out of her... _I was just afraid to admit it...I've wanted this for so long...._

Only, now she wasn't sure what she wanted from Tom. Part of her just wanted to let things go on as they were, because it certainly made her life less complicated; while another part of her wanted to grab him by the throat, throw him against a wall and demand to know just what the hell he thought he was doing. She didn't think either way was going to make her very happy, and she found herself wishing, selfishly and meanly, that Tom was miserable, too.

The only thing that kept her from dwelling on the whole business was her work. When she strode purposefully into Sickbay one afternoon, she was looking forward to a back-and-forth session with the Doctor while she ran his weekly diagnostic.

But Sickbay seemed strangely quiet. "Computer! Activate Emergency Medical--"

"He's not here," a voice interrupted her, and to her surprise, Tom appeared at the office door.

B'Elanna almost turned and walked out. But she stood her ground, and gave him what she hoped was a polite smile. "Hi, Tom," she said as calmly as she could.

"Hey, B'Elanna," he responded, with a smile that stalled before it reached his eyes.

"Where's the Doctor?"

"Someone had a slight accident down in the gym. He took Kes and made one of his house calls," he told her, his face expressionless.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, with genuine curiosity.

"Working," he replied quietly, turning away from her and moving back into the office.

_Don't you turn your back on me!_ She followed after him, and watched as he sat down at the computer terminal. "What are you working on?"

He actually flinched at the sound of her voice. "Updating my field medic training," he replied, in a toneless voice, not taking his eyes away from the screen. "Doc's been after me for months to do it."

"Well, that's a good idea," she commented, meaning it. "He should get more people certified, all things considered."

"Yeah, I guess so."

B'Elanna stared at the back of his head, willing him to turn around and face her. But he seemed intent on his studies, and distinctly uncomfortable with her presence. She could only stand the ensuing awkward silence for a few minutes, before she found she was clenching and unclenching her fists in nervousness. Finally, she couldn't stand it any longer, and reached around him to shut off the terminal.

Tom just stared at the blank screen for a moment, then turned his head only slightly in her direction. "Is something wrong?" he asked stolidly.

"That's what I'd like to know," she said, realizing she didn't really want to put him through a wall. She only wanted answers. "Are you angry at me about something?"

His shoulders stiffened. "No," he replied, shifting his attention back to the computer.

"Did I do something to upset you?"

"No."

B'Elanna couldn't believe this. Where was the silver-tongued, couldn't-shut-him-up Tom Paris who never backed down from a challenge? "Any particular reason you've been ignoring me lately?" she went on mercilessly.

His head shot up, and he whirled around to finally face her. "B'Elanna--no! That's not...I didn't mean to--" There was a look of panic in his blue eyes, and the color was rising in his face. "Oh, hell!" he said, getting out of the chair and moving away from her. "I knew I'd mess this up."

She stared at him, as if seeing him for the first time. And suddenly, she found herself liking this change in him, intrigued by the uncertainty and awkwardness that revealed a vulnerability she had long suspected about him. "What do you mean?" she asked, folding her arms and taking the seat he had vacated.

He hovered in the office doorway, running his palms nervously along his legs. "I haven't been--ignoring you," he confessed hesitantly. "I just didn't want you to get the wrong idea."

B'Elanna frowned. "About what?"

"About--the way I feel about you," he admitted in a soft, guilty voice. "After what you said...in the turbolift, I didn't want you to think I was interested in you for only one reason. I wanted to be sure you knew we were still...friends."

She hadn't actually believed he wanted only one thing from her, but to hear him say it, that he valued their friendship first and foremost, pleased her in a way she wouldn't have thought possible. "So you backed off, to prove it to me?" she asked, feeling ridiculously shy about it.

He nodded, his gaze fixed firmly on the floor. "Yes...and I wanted to be sure, just in case any--rumors started about...you know...that nobody else would get the wrong idea." Another blush crept up his face as he finished.

B'Elanna felt gratified and annoyed at the same time. Why did he always have to act like she needed protection? But then she remembered what he had said in the cave... _I'm your friend, I have to watch out for you_...and that's what it came down to, she realized: friendship, trust, and caring. And right now, that was what she wanted the most from Tom Paris--his friendship.

But any other emotional attachment, or physical attraction, or--no, she wasn't quite ready to admit to that. Not completely, not easily. Too much had happened between them, under the wrong circumstances. But, in time...who knew?

Now, however, it was time to reset the rules of the game. They needed to start over, if their friendship was going to survive. And there was only one way to do that.

Tom hadn't moved, waiting for her to say something, still looking mortified and unsure. "Let me tell you something, Paris," she began sharply, and he looked up at her, apprehension furrowing his forehead.

"...if anyone's reputation needs looking after, it's yours, not mine." Then she added, more gently, "But thanks, anyway."

The color and anxiety left his face, and a little spark of his old self flashed in his eyes. "Hey, what are friends for?" he asked with an only-slightly nonchalant shrug.

B'Elanna stifled a heart-felt, relieved sigh, and got up and walked past him out of the office. "I better go see what Doc's up to. Study hard, Tom."

He grinned at her as she went by. "Don't worry, I will."

But there was still something, in his eyes and in his voice, that made her slow down and call over her shoulder to him, almost as a challenge, but really seeking reassurance, "At least I didn't scare you off...?"

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him fold his arms in a familiar gesture of confidence. "Oh, don't worry, B'Elanna, you didn't," he asserted, as she left Sickbay.

And then the door was closing between them, and she was never quite sure she heard or understood what he said next.

"I scared myself."

***

 

_"If you find it so difficult to be my friend, then why keep trying?"_

_"That's a good question. I think I'll stop wasting my time."_

 

She wouldn't stop looking at him.

It had been embarrassing enough, appearing back in the habitat with his arms around her, as their crewmates gawked and whispered. They'd both been stunned into immobility, until they'd regained enough equilibrium to move apart, bit by bit, acting like nothing had happened...gradually inching away from each other until they were on opposite sides of the courtyard. But as they did, B'Elanna kept throwing these strange glances at him, like she wanted to...hurt him. Badly.

The chief engineer took a seat on one of the benches, and started talking to Harry when he joined her. Yet her attention still seemed to be focused on Tom, as he sat on the low wall, as far away from her as he could, trying not to look at anyone. The Doctor came up to him and asked, "Are you all right, Mr. Paris? You look a bit...worn."

He felt more than just worn, but he didn't care. "I'm fine, Doc. But you might want to check on Lieutenant Torres. We--it was awfully cold where we were, and she might have gotten a touch of frostbite or something," Tom suggested, hoping he was wrong.

The EMH raised his eyebrows with keen interest. "Really? That would be change of pace from the usual ailments I have to deal with. Any possibility of hypothermia?" he asked avidly.

It was all Tom could do to suppress a shudder. "Yeah, maybe," he murmured. Too much of a possibility. "Just go take a look, would you?"

He watched surreptitiously as the Doctor approached B'Elanna. She allowed him to examine her, to look at her hands. But all the time, her brown eyes were locked on _Voyager's_ pilot--an open, appraising, _challenging_ stare.

Tom couldn't stand it. He slid off the wall and moved in the direction of the portal, wondering what had happened to the captain and Tuvok. He hoped they had eluded the Nyrian security forces, and had found a way to get them out of this mess. He started to look around for Chakotay, to see if they shouldn't make an attempt at--something, anything--and realized that B'Elanna hadn't stopped studying him.

Great--was she going to hold a grudge against him forever, for trying to keep her alive? Was she still seething over the accusations they had traded the night before, when he'd been goaded into practically disowning their friendship? Would she ever even speak to him again--give him a chance to apologize, to explain?

Or ever stop looking at him?

Dammit, why did it always have to end up this way between them--every time he thought their friendship was moving forward, growing stronger, something happened to screw things up. He probably had gone over the limit with the holoprogram--and calling her hostile had been _such_ a smooth move. Then Doc had to butt in, just at the perfectly wrong moment, and the timing couldn't have been worse when they were transported out of that frozen nightmare....

She was still watching! Except--the look had changed. That antagonistic detachment was gone, replaced by an expression he couldn't quite interpret, except to say it was...thoughtful, and almost forgiving. Or maybe that was what he wanted to see.

But it gave him enough courage to stop prowling around the portal entrance, and start in her direction, just to ask if she was all right--

\--and then fate intervened again. Tuvok appeared in flash of red light, and calmly announced that the Nyrians no longer controlled the habitat ship, or _Voyager,_ and that the crew should prepare to beam back almost immediately.

So Tom stayed where he was, bleakly aware that once Tuvok has started speaking, B'Elanna had finally stopped paying attention to him.

 

_Understand...understand..._  
 _That there's someone, to stand beside you_  
 _Turn around, look at me._  
 _And there's someone, to love and guide you,_  
 _Turn around, look at me...._

The sun was so hot, so bright, and it felt so good. The sultry air wrapped itself around her like a blanket, insulating her from all cares, all worries. She could have stayed here forever.

Except, of course, it wasn't real. It was only a holographic simulation--artificial sunlight courtesy of the computer, ambient temperature provided by the ship's environmental systems. There was only one real thing here...

...Tom's smile. Even with his eyes shut, and his face turned to the "sun," B'Elanna knew that smile was for her, and her alone. And that warmed her all the way through in a way a real sun never could. She didn't have to open her own eyes to know he was still smiling; she could feel it, she just knew it. Maybe they could stay here forever, side by side, enjoying the sun, just two friends together--she let herself drift contentedly with that thought, snuggling further back into the soft cushions, so glad to have a moment of peace...it was so nice to be warm, and safe....

But the warmth was fading, and the light was growing harsh and threatening. She was cold, and alone, lost in a world of hard, white walls, being driven along by a relentless, biting wind. There was no shelter, no safety, nowhere for her to go. She had to find her way back to the warmth, the sun--she reached out through the blinding whiteness, searching desperately for something, anything to save her--

\--and someone took her hands, and someone called her name.

Gasping for breath, B'Elanna fought her way to awareness, and opened her eyes to see Tom right beside her, wide-eyed with fear and concern. He had his hands wrapped securely around hers, as he'd done to warm them in the ice habitat. "B'Elanna, it's all right," he said reassuringly. "You fell asleep. You must have been dreaming."

Frantically she looked around, to assure herself she was awake, on the holodeck, not trapped in that nightmare world of cold and ice. She looked back at Tom, who was watching her with a worried smile. "I--I was dreaming," she said, feeling stupid at having to admit it.

"It must have been pretty bad," he said softly, giving her hands a gentle squeeze, then releasing them. But he didn't move away from her. "It looked like you were just having a nice nap, and I had to get back on duty, and didn't want to disturb you. But then I saw you were shivering, and you looked...scared," he told her with some hesitation.

B'Elanna nodded, reluctant to say out loud how frightened she had really been. But that was stupid too--if he was her friend, then she could tell him that, couldn't she? "It--I was back there, in that habitat we were lost in, only this time I was alone, and it was so cold..." A shudder ran through her at the memory, and she cursed herself for being so weak, turning her face away from him so he couldn't see how upset she still was.

"Hey--" Tom reached out and put his hand on her shoulder for just a second. "That place would give anybody nightmares. I'm glad I was here to wake you up."

She looked up at him, into his friendly, open face, into that blue-eyed gaze that couldn't quite hide the fact that he was still worried about her. "So am I," she finally said. "Thanks."

"Are you going to be all right now?" he asked, slowly getting to his feet. "Because I'm due on the Bridge..."

"Yes, I'm fine," she answered, pulling herself up and swinging her legs over the side of the lounge chair. "Go on," she said, shooing him away with her hand. "You don't want Chakotay chewing you out if you're late," she finished with a grin.

He grinned back. "Can't have that, can we?" he smirked, and headed to the exit.

B'Elanna watched him go, for once not feeling disgruntled that he had come to her rescue again, relieved and glad that after all that had happened over the past few days they were still friends...

No, that was wrong. He was more than a friend, he was somebody special. He was...

"Tom!" she called out before she knew it.

He stopped in his tracks and whirled around, hurrying back to her. "What? What's wrong?" he asked, a look of bewilderment on his face.

She smiled at him. "Nothing. I just wanted to ask..." _I can't believe I'm doing this. But I want to._ "Are you busy tomorrow night?"

He stared at her, and for a moment his mouth worked soundlessly. "No," he finally managed to get out.

"Maybe I'll reserve some holodeck time, and you can show me one of those programs you're always bragging about," she tossed off with what she hoped was just the right air of nonchalance. "I mean, besides being such a hotshot pilot, you're always telling everybody how good you are at holo-programming."

Tom frowned for just a second. Then he gave her an amused, but knowing smile. "Torres, you reserve that time, and I'll give you lesson in holo-programming you'll never forget." He turned and sauntered off.

"It's a date, Paris," she called loudly after him, and once again he froze, and she had to stifle a laugh as she saw his ears turn bright red. But then he turned to her once more, and across the space between them, he regarded her with complete seriousness, as he got in the last word.

"You said it, B'Elanna, not me."

 

_Oh, I've waited, but I'll wait forever_  
 _For you to come to me..._  
 _Look at someone who really loves you_  
 _Yes, loves you..._  
 _Turn around...look at me..._  
 _Turn around,_  
 _Look at me...._

******

 

"Turn Around, Look at Me" by The Vogues  
(c) 1968 Warner Bros./Reprise Records

**Author's Note:**

> Not the first Voyager story I wrote, but the first in what became an AU series. Paris/Torres was (after _years_ of writing fanfic for zines) my first real 'ship. It was the most prolific writing time of my fannish life.
> 
> Looking at this now...umm, yeah, the song may seem a bit...stalkery? But I never viewed it that way, and that's not how it was intended to serve as a theme for the story.


End file.
